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« All that I have, his bounteous hand bestow'd; " And he that gave it, can preserve it to me. “ If his o’er-ruling will ordains my ruin, " What is there more, but to fall down before him, " And humbly yield obedience!"- -Fly! begone!
Pem. Yes, I will gomfor, see! Behold who comes ! Oh, Guilford! hide me, shield me from her sight; Every mad passion kindles up again, Love, rage, despair—and yet I will be masterI will remember thee-Oh, my torn heart ! I have a thousand thousand things to say, But cannot, dare not stay to look on her. “ Thus gloomy ghosts, where'er the breaking morn " Gives notice of the cheerful sun's return, « Fade at the light, with horror stand oppress'd, " And shrink before the purple dawning east; " Swift with the fleeting shades they wing their way, " And dread the brightness of the rising day."
[Exeunt Guilford and Pembroke.
Enter Lady JANE, reading. L. F. Gray. “ 'Tis false ! The thinking soul is
somewhat more “ Than symmetry of atoms well dispos'd, “ The harmony of matter. Farewell else “ The hope of all hereafter, that new life, “ That separate intellect, which must survive, " When this fine frame is moulder'd into dust."
L. 7. Gray. 'Tis Plato's Phædon ;
Guil. Shall thy soul
below « Deserves the least regard? Is it not time “ To bid our souls look out, explore hereafter, « And seek some better sure abiding place; “ When all around our gathering foes come on, “ To drive, to sweep us from this world at once ?
" Guil. Does any danger new
L. 7. Gray. The faithless counsellors
Vent their lewd execrations on my name,
Guil. The changeling villains ! That pray for slavery, fight for their bonds, And shun the blessing, liberty, like ruin. " What art thou, human nature, to do thus ? “ Does fear or folly make thee, like the Indian, " Fall down before this dreadful devil, tyranny, " And worship the destroyer ?" But wherefore do I loiter tamely here? Give me my arms: I will preserve my country, Ev'n in her own despite. Some friends I have, Who will or die or conquer in thy cause, Thine and religion's, thine and England's cause. L. 7. Gray. Art thou not all my treasure, all my
Enter the Duke of SUFFOLK.
Suf. Oh, my son,
Guil. Ha! What of him?
Suff. Is lost! betray'd ! His army, onward as he march'd, shrunk from him, Moulder'd away, and melted by his side; “ Like falling hail thick strewn upon the ground, " Which, ere we can essay to count, is vanishid." With some few followers he arriv'd at Cambridge; But there ev'n they forsook him, and himself Was forc'd, with heavy heart and wat’ry eye, To cast his cap up, with dissembled cheer, And cry, God save queen Mary. But, alas! Little avail'd the semblance of that loyalty : For soon thereafter, by the earl of Arundel, With treason he was charg'd, and there arrested ; And now he brings him pris’ner up to London. L. 7. Gray. Then there's an end of greatness: the
vain dream Of empire, and a crown that danc'd before me, " With all those unsubstantial empty forms: " Waiting in idle mockery around us; ** The gaudy masque, tedious, and nothing meaning,'' Is vanish'd all at once- -Why, fare it well.
Guil. And canst thou bear this sudden turn of fate, With such unshaken temper?
L. 7. Gray. For myself,
And thou, o’er-ruling, great, all-knowing Power ! Thou, who discern'st our thoughts, who see'st 'em
rising And forming in the soul! Oh, judge me, thou, If e'er ambition's guilty fires have warm'd me, If e'er my heart inclin’d to pride, to power, Or join'd in being a queen. I took the sceptre To save this land, thy people, and thy altars : And now, behold, I bend my grateful knee, [Kneeling. In humble adoration of that mercy, Which quits me of the vast unequal task.
Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK. Duch. Suff. Nay, keep that posture still, and let
us join, Fix all our knees by thine, lift up our hands, And seek for help and pity from above, For earth and faithless man will give us none. L. 7. Gray. What is the worst our cruel fate or.
dains us? Duch. Suff. Curs'd be my fatal counsels, curs'd my
L. 7. Gray. Oh, my mother!
portion. Mary is come, and the revolting Londoners,